


Rock Salt Special

by Vexed_Wench



Series: Rock Salt [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parent John, Dean Loves Sam, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Are Brothers, Dean-Centric, Domestic, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Raised Apart, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexed_Wench/pseuds/Vexed_Wench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Singer and his dad were on a case when he met Dean Winchester; when he lost his dad and found his future. With the help of Sam's aunt Ellen and Sheriff Mills, things might just work out for them, despite John's objections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Salt Special

**Author's Note:**

> There is mention of domestic abuse of an original character.
> 
>  
> 
> **Be sure and check out and leave love on lotrspnfangirl's awesome art post[here](http://lotrspnfangirl.livejournal.com/49394.html).**

Dean stopped short of the Impala and turned to call out to his Dad. “You smell that?” he asked him.  
“All I smell is fresh air, and my own clothes that needed to be washed two days ago,” he said as he opened the door to his old pickup truck. Dean chose to ignore the crack about the laundry. He knew he should’ve washed their clothes when it was his turn. He just had better things to do than hang out in laundromat. He had noticed that he was doing the clothes more often than John or Gordon were. It had to be at least three to one with the odds of Dean washing them.

“No, you really don't smell smoke?” Dean asked him, after he ran the short distance to John’s truck.

“Son, I think your brain is already thinking about the barbecue joint we passed on the way out here. I know I promised we’d stop for lunch and we will. I swear we will eat as many racks of ribs as we can manage,” his dad replied and slid the key into the ignition.

“I know this place was a bust, but I still feel like something ain't right about us just leaving. Something is still out there,” Dean said.

“We got a tip about a vengeful spirit from the eighteen hundreds. She was supposed to be a jilted schoolmarm that was taking out men dumb enough to bring their dates up here. Dean, you know sometimes tales are just that. The locals come up with a wild story to either bring the tourists in or scare them off. Son, I’m through arguing,now get in your car and let’s get out of here,” John snapped at him.

Dean knew his dad was getting frustrated with him. Any other time he would’ve already had his beloved Impala following behind his dad's truck down the highway. He should’ve been thinking about enjoying the rare afternoon off and a lunch that was promising to be smoked meats, crispy onion rings, and cold beer.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. He knew there wasn’t enough smoked meat and beers to get him to change his mind. His dad had been acting odd for the past day. Dean wished he could put his finger on what had set him off. The only thing that ever worked his dad up like this were things that reminded him of Dean’s mother. As far as Dean knew Mary had never been to this part of South Dakota.  
   
“Son, we need to be on our way. If we take much longer we’re going to have to skip lunch to be able to meet up with Gordon.”  
   
Dean knew that tone. It was the one that said, “I’m done indulging you, now move your ass.”  
   
“You know as well as I do that Gordon’ll wait for us. We've waited for him more than a few times. But if you really are that worried about time we can skip lunch and just drive straight through to the meet up,” Dean suggested. As much as he hated to offer, he knew there was something wrong with the job they were leaving. John had been acting odd ever since they crossed into South Dakota. The more Dean thought about it, the more he realized that they rarely took jobs in South Dakota. On the rare chance they did it was never near Sioux Falls. Dean used to think the city was built on sacred ground when he was younger.

Dean lost his thought when the old wooden cabin behind him suddenly erupted in flames.

“What the hell happened? Did you start the fire? If there’s nothing here for us, why bother to burn it?” Dean asked him.

“You don't understand what’s at stake.” John started his truck. “I’m leaving and expect to see you following behind me.”

It was in that moment that Dean saw his life played out before his eyes. He saw himself at fifty, still trailing behind his dad and Gordon. It wasn't a pretty picture. A life of being treated like a dumb kid, a life of always being told what to do, and a life of being expected to tow the line. He knew it was the family business and he was proud of what they did. He liked to think that somewhere down the damn road there was more waiting for him. He knew he wouldn't have the white picket fence, apple pie life that most guys his age were planning for. It wouldn't be so bad to have someone to share the life with. One night stands were fun, but he hoped at some point he could find someone to have more than that with.

“No, Sir. If you want to go then you go. I know there is something important here,” Dean said.

“Dean, I expect you to be no more than twenty minutes behind me. You can be sure we _will_ be discussing this attitude of yours tonight,” John said, before he pulled his truck out onto the country road.

Dean watched as his dad drove to the edge of the property. Moments later he heard someone yell for help. He knew he was right. The voice was definitely not an old schoolmarm. It was a male voice, a very upset male voice.

Dean ran as fast as he could in his well worn boots in the long grass. He never once stopped to question what he was doing. He halted and almost fell on his ass when he saw a kid hunched over an older guy. Dean assumed it must've been the kid's dad.

"Wake up. Damn it you _can't_ go out like this," the kid kept saying.

"What happened?"  
   
"I have no idea. One minute we were checking the place out and then the next the damn place is burning down around our ears. We made a run for it. He just doubled over and fell down."  
   
"What were you doing out here?" Dean wondered if he should've taken a moment to grab one of his fake badges from his glove box.  
   
"I would imagine the same thing you are."  
   
"What do you think I'm doing out here?" Dean was genuinely curious about the kid’s answer.  
   
"Seriously? Fine, you're in old jeans, well worn boots, and two layers of shirts. You have a gun tucked into your back waistband and I would bet no less than three knives on you. Your attitude is fake charm and pure schmooze. You don't walk, talk, or dress like a Fed. It's like you have a sign above you that says _I'm a hunter,_ " he explained.  
   
Dean nodded; he knew the kid was right. "So, really what happened?" he asked again.  
   
"Dad got a call this morning about a job so we grabbed a bag and headed over. He was sketchy with the details. I don't think he really wanted me to come along now that I think about it. That makes no sense he's been taking me on the local salt and burn jobs for years." The kid was running his hand over his dad's flannel covered arm.  
   
Dean was no doctor, but he knew that the guy wasn't doing well. His color was awful and his breathing was shallow. He hoped for the kid’s sake that the guy would pull through. It wasn't long after that Dean heard the sirens approaching. He couldn't remember the last time he was so relieved to hear sirens approaching. He just hoped they would get there in time. The town was so small Dean was just glad that someone was on their way. He had been looking into the town since John said they were going Tea, South Dakota. It was easier to make a thousand and one tea bagger jokes if he had the facts to back it up.  
   
Sadly, his dad still wanted to strangle him after an hour or so.  
   
"Who are you and what are you doing out here?"  
   
Dean quickly turned around silently cursing himself for letting someone get the drop on him so easily. He couldn't remember the last time a civilian had done it. He knew it hadn't been in the last decade, let alone an ambulance and a cop car. He didn't want to think at the ripe old age of twenty four he was getting rusty. He told himself he was just more worried about the kid then he'd realized.  
   
"I'm Sam Singer and this is my dad, Bobby."  
   
"Son, you're going to have to move aside," the younger of the paramedics tried to physically remove Sam from his dad's side. Dean saw that was going to be impossible.  
   
"Sammy, you have to let them help." Dean managed to pull him over to where he'd been standing. He had to uncurl Sam's fingers from his dad's flannel shirt. Dean threw his arm around Sam's shoulder. He could feel him start to shake and knew that Sam's adrenaline would be wearing off soon. He didn't want the kid to be alone when that happened. Dean had had more than a couple of close calls over the years and knew he knew how badly it sucked to be alone once your adrenaline came down and your brain started working again. There was no way he was going to let Sam out of his sight if he had any say about it.  
   
Dean wasn't sure why he was so worried about a kid he didn't even really know. He was an attractive guy, but it was more than that. Dean wasn't one for the touchy feely crap. He was the kind of guy that would rather gnaw off his own arm then talk about his feelings. Some things he gave a free pass: Zeppelin, bacon cheeseburgers, and his Baby were pure love. But the whole let's talk about our feelings was not his bag, and yet, for some reason he was drawn to Sam.  
   
"So, you never did answer us what were you doing out here."  
   
"Sammy here is a painter and he wanted to get the afternoon shadows just right. He swore the softer light from the dusty windows would make the worn spots on the floor practically glow. I was supposed to bring him up here but my dad needed me at the last minute. I was running late so his dad offered to drive him up here. We were all supposed to go grab some barbecue and make a night of it," Dean lied through his teeth.  
   
"I don't see any art supplies. How was he going to paint without them?" the cop demanded.  
   
Dean had met plenty of people like him before. He knew that he had taken one look at them and decided they'd been up to no good and no amount of proof would change his mind. "Oh, he takes photos and then paints from a mixture of them and his own memory." Dean smiled his most “you can trust me” smile at him. "I have the camera. He'd just finished this one when that happened." He nodded at the now engulfed building. He fished a disposable camera out of his jacket pocket and _accidentally_ dropped it in the grass. He tried not to smirk as it crunched under his boot heel as he turned to reassure Sam it would be OK. "Damn, I'm sorry."  
   
"I'm sure we can find another perfect old school house," Sam mumbled with just enough sarcasm that even Dean bought it. He was more impressed by the kid every moment. He thought it would be awesome to have someone like him with him on a hunt. He briefly wondered if he could handle a weapon as easy as he could talk shit.  
   
"I promise I will do my best to find you the perfect one."  
   
" _If_ we were to buy that flimsy story, it doesn't explain why the old schoolhouse is now burning down around us."  
   
"I don't know. Like I said earlier, I was running late and he was just finishing up that roll of film. I figured another one and then we could go grab a few plates of ribs. He was ready for lunch as well. We were getting ready to go when he swore he heard something in the cabin. I tried to tell him there was nothing in there. He didn't listen to me and went running back in there. His dad followed and I was a close third. The only thing in there was a stray cat. I saw its tails and hind legs go out the back window," Dean explained.  
   
"Look here, son," the cop called out, making his way to where they stood.  
   
Dean tightened his grip on Sam. He knew they hadn't done anything wrong, but that didn't stop him from worrying. It turned out he needn't have worried for long. Just after Officer Friendly McFreindster jogged over to them, they heard an explosion from behind the cabin. Dean was just glad it was behind the cabin and not beside it. He knew from the sound of it, Sam or his dad's car was now junk. If it'd been his Baby he wasn't sure what he would do. He loved his car like family. She'd been his girl for as long as he could remember. The year Dean had turned fourteen John said as long as Dean kept proving how responsible he was John would sign her over to him when he turned sixteen. He never gave his dad any reason not to sign her over. Dean couldn't think of anything he'd ever wanted more in his life. To this day he loved her above almost everything or anyone else.  
   
He had to admit, if only to himself, there was something about Sam that made Dean think he could run a very close second to his Baby. He wasn't sure why that was. There was just something about him that got under Dean's skin.  
   
"Do you have some place you need to be?" Sam softly asked him.  
   
"Nope, did you want some company at the hospital? I'm sure you’ll want to ride with your dad."  
   
"Would you...  Could I... uh yeah, I guess so."  
   
"Sammy, if you want to give the paramedics the extra room, you can ride with me.”  
   
Dean quietly got directions from the paramedics and walked Sammy around to the back of the building.  
   
"Wow!"  
   
"My Baby, she's my pride and joy."  
   
"I can see why. They don't make them like this anymore."  
   
"Some of my happiest memories revolved around her. I still have dreams about the happy afternoons we spent together as a family before my mom died. Dad would always put me in charge of washing her wheels and bumper as soon as I was old enough to hold a sponge. Dad would tell me about all of the cars he was working on at the garage while he waxed her black paint to a shiny gloss. He would say that when I was a big boy we would open our own garage, 'Winchester and Son.'"  
   
"That sounds great. Almost like what Dad and I have at home."  
   
"Mom would always bake us something special for our _coffee break_ and she made me cocoa with extra whipped cream in the fall. When it got warmer out, she would make homemade lemonade and she always added frozen fruit to it. We’d all sit on the porch and catch each other up on our week.  
   
“After my mom died, Dad and I started living on the road. The Impala had become as much of home to me as our old house had ever been. It's funny, I always slept better on her old leather seats then I did on any of the motel room beds. The beds always felt wrong." He couldn't believe how long he'd been talking about himself, but Sam seemed to want the distraction so he decided to continue. "As far as I knew everyone lived in their car after their mom died.  
“Dad became an expert about finding ways to keep me entertained while he was on a job. He always filled a cooler with snacks, sandwiches and juice for me. I always had a stack of coloring books and crayons when I was little. I swapped them out for comic books when I got a little older. I still love comics, but it didn't take long for me to find manga and graphic novels.  
“If I have to spend a lot of time in here I still grab a stack of books and a blanket and just hunker down." Dean was out of his element, and feeling it. He couldn't think of anything else he could do to help Sam. He doubted anyone could've helped him if he were in Sam's place. He still wanted to do whatever he could. He was relieved when they were able to park in the hospital's lot.  
   
He led Sam into the emergency room and quickly found them a  couple of chairs.  
   
"Did you want me to call someone for you? I'm sure you'll be filling out a mountain of paperwork pretty soon. I can at least do that for you." Dean wished he could think of something better, or more personal to do for him.  
   
"I'll call everyone when we have better information. I know everyone’ll want to come running down here. Is it shitty of me that I don’t want a houseful of people until I know what is going on?" Sam sounded so lost and sad.  
   
"No, why would that make you a shitty person? Did you want me to drop you off and bail?" Dean thought he would rather gnaw his own arm off than leave Sam alone.  
   
"No, and I know this is asking a lot of you, but would you mind staying with me? It's kind of nice in a weird way that you really don't know him. You're not going to remind me of all the bad ass monsters he fought and won. Don't get me wrong I am proud of him, but I hate the thought of this being it for him. Everyone would want to talk about his great hunting cases; sadly I have been to enough bedside vigils to know how they work. I don't want to think about Bobby Singer the great fucking hunter; I want to concentrate on Bobby Singer my Dad. I'm sorry; I don't even know what the hell I am complaining about. I'm sorry we had to meet when I am such a mess," Sam mumbled the last line so softly Dean almost missed it.  
   
"That’s natural. I’d be a mess too."  
   
"Thanks for saying so."  
   
"Maybe they can get him fixed up and send him home soon."  
   
"I hope so. I don't know what I'm going to do if something bad happens."  
   
"I'm sure you'll figure something out." Dean was positive he would. Sam seemed bright to him.  
   
Dean wondered what he would do if it were him, waiting to hear if his dad was going to make it. He was once more wondering about what his own future would hold. He doubted he would hunt with Gordon if John was no longer with them. The man was a great hunter, but his method left a bad taste in Dean's mouth. He was rash and reckless, and put to many civilians at risk. Dean knew he didn't want to wind up like that.  
   
It turned out he was right about the paperwork. He had filled out enough of them to know they were indeed a pain in the ass. Dean was surprised to see that Sam had filled out Bobby's real name and information on them. He couldn't remember the last time he used the name Dean Winchester for anything official, except for the driver's license with his real name hidden in his wallet.  
   
The more he learned about Sam the more he realized how different they were.  
   
Dean excused himself to get them each a coffee. He hated feeling useless and needed to do something to keep busy. He belatedly realized he should've asked Sam how he took his coffee. He struck Dean as the extra sweet and light kind of guy. Dean himself had been drinking it strong and black for as long as he could remember. He checked his phone while he waited for the vending machine to fill the second paper cup.  
   
He wasn't surprised that his own dad hadn't bothered to call him. He knew he would have to man up and call him sooner or later. He decided that he would call him later. He wasn't in the mood for the fight he knew was brewing. He knew the longer it took him to call and apologize the madder his dad would become. To make the situation even worse Gordon would be there with a bottle for the two of them to share as he pointed out all of Dean's flaws both as a hunter and a son. He didn't know why Gordon had it in for him. They never got a long.  
   
Dean decided there would plenty of time to deal with both his Dad and Gordon, as he hurried back to Sam. He knew the worst had happened when he saw the doctor was at Sammy's side. The kid looked like he was going to pass out or puke. Dean had an urge to hit something. He wanted to kick whatever cosmic joke had decided that Sam no longer needed his dad.  
   
"Don't worry we will work it all out. Again, I'm sorry for your loss," the doctor was saying as Dean approached them.  
   
Dean stopped short when Sam looked up at him and he saw his hazel eyes were full of tears he didn't want to let fall. Dean could understand that, he hated to cry in front of people. he put the coffee cups on the closest table he saw and quickly walked over to Sam. He threw his arm around Sam's shoulder. He could feel him beginning to tremble and wanted to hustle him out of the emergency room before he fell apart.  
   
"Did you want to go see him? I can wait here if you want to go in the room by yourself."  
   
"No, I want to remember him like he was this morning. I want my last memories of him to be happy ones. I don't want to see him in the hospital room. I just want to go home. Will you go with me?"  
   
"Yeah, of course I will." Dean was touched that Sam wanted him there. He helped Sam out to the car. Dean watched as Sam tried to curl himself up on the front seat of his car. He wished he could do something to make him not feel so miserable. He was ready to bash his head against the steering wheel out of frustration when he finally saw the sign for Singer Salvage.  
   
"Wow, this has to be one of the best places to live." Dean was embarrassed to realize he'd said that aloud.  
   
"Home sweet home," Sam mumbled from the passenger seat.  
   
"I could think of a lot of worse places to live. Think of all the time you could save driving all over for parts. I bet your dad has a fully stocked garage…" Dean stopped himself when he realized what he was saying. It was true, if someone had asked him where his dream place was, and they excluded things like the Playboy Mansion, this would be it. A place to keep his Baby tuned up, and maybe a few extra old girls to restore.  
   
"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, wanting to kick his own ass for being such an asshole.  
   
"I understand what you mean. It's too bad you didn't get to meet my dad. I think you two would've liked each other." Sam smiled at the thought.  
   
Dean was sure they would've bonded over cars. He wasn't sure about how he would've liked his feelings for Sam.  
   
Dean stared at the house through the windshield as he made his way up the driveway. "This is your house?"  
   
"Yeah, what were you expecting?"  
   
Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he was sure it wasn't this. He'd always been told you could have a cozy little house, or you could be a hunter. There was no way to safely balance both. Anyone stupid enough to try died a bloody painful death. The outside may not have won any award for home beautiful, but it was nice. The paint wasn't peeling and the grass was mowed. Hell, there were flower beds in front of the house. He quickly followed Sam to the front door.  
   
"I'm sorry it's a little messy. I wasn't expecting anyone to come home with me," Sam apologized as he opened the front door.

Dean stepped inside and was impressed with what he saw. The place was cluttered, but not what he would consider a mess. There were no rotting take out containers. Hell, there were no dirty dishes at all. Not one pile of dirty clothes waiting to be sorted and washed.  
   
One a closer inspection the clutter turned out to be books, stacks of then that took up most of the free space on the furniture. There were even stray ones peeking out from under the couch and coffee table. He realized they weren't just any books, they were hunters’ books. They were older obscure texts and more than a couple that were priceless mixed in with some newer ones. He spotted a couple under the coffee table that were on his dream list of things to have in his arsenal if he won the lottery. He couldn't imagine being able to live like that. He had trouble accepting that anyone lived like this. "Wow, it must be nice to have your own research library in your living room."Dean thought he could do with less trips to the library.  
   
"I guess. I'm sure your own collection is every bit as impressive as ours." Sam grabbed a small stack and began to re shelve them.  
   
"I have maybe a dozen all purpose research books in my trunk," Dean mumbled. He didn't want Sam to think he was dumb. He didn’t like to research their cases, but he knew it was an important part of the job. Going into a job without proper Intel would get you killed. But if given the choice, he would rather kill the monster then read about it.  
   
"You have a lot of priceless things just scattered about." Dean knew that there were plenty of shady people in the life that would love to get their hands on this kid. He hoped that whatever friends he had would look out for him. All it would take was one smooth talking asshole, and they would be rich off of the kid’s treasure.  
   
"Oh, you're worried about civilians? The neighbors never really come in here. Dad always meets... met his customers out in the yard. We tried to keep the kitchen a hunter free zone. That didn't work. People wondered why we have so many home phones. I tried to tell Dad we should just open a second office, but he wouldn't listen to me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain why you have phones labeled F.B.I., C.I.A., and the rest when you run a salvage yard?" Sam asked him.  
   
"I bet that led to some interesting conversations." Dean thought it sounded funny as hell. He knew he wouldn't be able to deal with the people nosing around his house. Sam seemed to have a better temperament than he had. His comment confirmed Dean's fear as well. He knew you could explain the book and artifacts that were no doubt as numerous and valuable in a way that didn't make you sound crazy. One slick talking son of a bitch could scam Sam out of his legacy.

"Do you want a drink? I think I want a drink. Hell, I'll be lucky if I don't drain the liquor cabinet tonight." Sam poured two generous shots of Jack into a couple of glasses. He crossed the room and sat on the end of the couch.  
   
It was an older couch, but it was sturdy. Dean couldn't shake the feeling he was on a case. Sometimes it felt like the only times he sat in a regular house was when he was on a case. He remembered asking his dad why they couldn’t rent a place for just a couple of weeks when he was in his teens. John said there was no point. Just like so many things in his life John had final say and Dean was supposed to just accept it. Dean usually did accept it.  
   
He watched as Sam poured a good amount of whiskey into his now empty glass.  
   
"Do you normally drink?"  
   
"Sure, I have a beer or two. I have a shot once in a while."  
   
"I hate to impose, but do you have any food?" Dean thought it couldn’t hurt to get something besides whiskey in the kid. "Or I could order us a pizza if you would rather have that."  
   
"Kitchen's that way. Feel free to help yourself. I cleaned out the fridge yesterday so you can eat whatever looks good."  
   
Dean walked over to the kitchen and was once more struck by the homey feel to the room. The kitchen was decorated like the living room. Dean was sure it had a name, hell every style had one. It seemed to scream 'Better Homes and Gardens' the retro version meets so you think you can be a scam artist. Why else would someone have a row of phones on the wall each labeled with a different law enforcement agency? You either had to be a scammer or a whack job.  
   
He rummaged through the fridge looking for something he could get Sam to eat. He realized that he should be hungry as well. Breakfast had been a while ago. That had been a box of donuts that he's found on his backseat buried under his _good suit_. He saw a plate of leftover chicken. He made quick work of slicing enough meat to make a couple of sandwiches. Dean spotted a bag of pretzels and thought they would help soak up the alcohol in Sam's system.  
   
"I hope this is alright." Dean was out of his element. He liked Sammy, but he was clueless about how to help him. If he were a witness for a case he knew he could charm the answers out of him. He was used to charming the witness for information. It seemed cold and calculating to do that to Sam. At the very least he wanted to be friends with him. There was no denying he wouldn't take more than friendship if he had a chance. He just didn't want to fuck Sam and bail. Dean had slept with more witnesses then he probably should've.  
   
Sam was his type in that boy next door kind of way. He loved his long floppy bangs that kept falling over his eyes. His style seemed to mirror Dean's own. He assumed that was just part of the charm of being raised by a hunter. He did notice that Sam's clothes tended to fit him a bit better.  _Probably not hand me downs,_ Dean thought. Besides his boxers and socks, he couldn't remember the last time he had new clothes.  
   
"I don't know what to do for you," Dean surprised himself by admitting it aloud.  
   
"That's okay. Thanks for staying with me."  
   
"That’s not the problem. I have no other place I'd rather be."  
   
"It's weird being on this side of the case. I know Dad had a heart attack. I swear that whatever happened today wasn't natural. I feel like I should be out interviewing people. The only person that can be interviewed is me. I don't know anything you don't. Crap! I think I’m drunk. Do I sound drunk and stupid? I hope I don't. I promise; I am not usually this dumb." Sam sounded upset and Dean had a strong urge to just wrap his arms around him.  
   
"You don't sound dumb. Trust me if it were me I would sound like a raving lunatic. I think you’re doing good."  
   
"Thanks. Think the whiskey is catching up with me. I'll be right back."  
   
Dean watched as Sam struggled to keep his balance as he left to most likely use the bathroom. He quickly grabbed the bottle of Jack and quietly walked to the kitchen sink. He couldn't remember the last time he dumped such good whiskey out. It killed him that it was on purpose, but Sam had been knocking it back pretty easy. Dean figured the last thing he would need tomorrow was a hangover while making important decisions.  
   
Sam staggered back into the room just as Dean put the bottle back where'd left it.  
   
"Huh, did I _really_ finish the bottle?" Sam sounded surprised.  
   
"You must've. Now what do you say we get you tucked in to bed."  
   
"I'm not sleepy."  
   
"Yeah, I know, but you need your rest. Now, which way to your room?"  
   
"Oh, are you going to take me to bed?" Sam fluttered his eyelashes.  
   
Dean couldn't help but grin at his antics. He wondered how much was the whiskey and how much was really Sam. He knew he wanted to find out. So he walked Sam up the stairs to his room. He would've hated for the kid to fall down the steps and crack his skull open on his watch.  
   
"Which one is yours?"  
   
"Oh, you _are_ going to take me to bed." Sam giggled.  
   
Dean knew he was in trouble when he wanted to hear him do it again. He found the door Sam nodded to and manhandled Sam in to the bed.  
   
Sam's room at first glance looked like something from a T.V. show. It was nicer than any of the motel rooms he'd ever stayed in. There was what looked like the thickest quilt Dean had ever seen on the bed. The curtains were dark and he bet they would block out the morning sun.  
   
"I'm going to tuck you into your bed, alone," Dean reminded him when Sam tried his best to pull Dean onto the bed with him.  
   
"Where are you gonna sleep?" Sammy pouted.  
   
Dean resisted the urge to kiss the pout off of him. If he'd been sober and not grieving, Dean wouldn't have thought twice about the offer. He got Sam’s sneakers off of him and pulled the quilt up over him. It was every bit as thick and soft as it looked.  
   
Sam had a few posters hanging on the walls. One for the Bronco's and there were a couple of bands that Dean had never heard of. The kid had a shelf full of honest to goodness trophies and ribbons. He had some for track and some that looked like school brainiac teams.  
   
Dean took one last look at Sam curled up on the bed and headed back to the living room. He made his way back down the stairs and thought about having a few drinks. He was sure he would be able to find at least one more bottle downstairs. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't want to stay up and dwell on all the not so fun insights he'd been having since he met Sammy. He checked his phone once more and saw his Dad had finally gotten around to checking on him.  
   
_"Dean, I don't know what's gotten into you. I have had enough of this attitude. You've had time to work through your little fit. I expect you to be in this room by sunrise. Gordon and I will be leaving after breakfast and I know you’ll be here.”  
_  
   
He settled down on the couch and tried not to pay attention to his dad's words as he drifted off into an easy sleep. It wasn't as easy as he hoped it would be. Dean hadn't run off to have a fit. His dad made it sound like Dean was off having an epic temper tantrum. He wasn't. He still had no idea why he had been drawn to Sammy, but for some reason he was. He couldn't imagine packing up and leaving him now that he had found him.  
   


He was right; the couch was more comfortable than his beloved backseat. That was mainly due to the fact that he could stretch his legs out. Bobby had clearly picked the old monstrosity of a couch out with someone sleeping on it in mind. No matter how awesome the couch was, it didn't stop him from almost rolling onto the floor. He listened for a moment to try to figure out what had woken him. He wondered if Sam was having a nightmare. He would imagine he would've had them last night if he'd been in Sam's shoes.  
   
Sam was definitely up. He could hear him puttering around in the kitchen. Dean thought he must be cooking. Either that or he was still dreaming and his newest dream smelt like bacon. He ran his fingers through his hair and could feel it needed a good wash. If he were dreaming he was sure he would have clean hair. He also decided that if he were dreaming he wouldn't be awake at the asscrack O' dawn after the day they had yesterday. That must mean that Sam was dealing with his loss and not hiding out in his room. Dean wondered if that was the healthy reaction or not.  
Dean stood and stretched and wondered if he should slip his boots back on. He felt relaxed and didn't want jinx it. He doubted Sam would be upset by his walking around in his bare feet. He was glad he'd opted for no shoes when he saw what was going on in the kitchen. He would've hated to miss the show.  
   
Sam was standing in front of the stove wearing a pair of black sleep pants that were resting low on his hips. His tee shirt must have been an old favorite as it was small and a bit tight. Not that Dean was complaining about the sliver of skin that showed when he reached for things. He had a pink bow tied around his back and Dean was trying to figure out what it was. The radio that sat on the counter changed songs and Dean grinned as he started belting out Cheap Trick's 'I Want You to Want Me'. The kid couldn't sing but he was full of passion.  
   
Dean watched as he spun around and tried not laugh when Sam spotted him. He noticed the pink bow was the back of his apron. It was one of the ones that tied around your waist. The damned thing was light pink with white lace trim. There was a big pair of dark pink lips with glitter on the front.

   
"Crap!" Sam shrieked when he spotted him.  
   
"Sorry, man."  
   
"I hope you're hungry. I made breakfast."  
   
"Thanks. I hate to put you out. I would've been more than happy to make a diner run. Or I could've run to the store if you prefer. I am not a great cook, but I can pour a wicked bowl of cereal." Dean really hated to think Sam felt like he had to wait on him.  
   
"It’s okay, I like to cook. It’s one of my favorite things. You’d be surprised at how many hunters never bother with a good home cooked meal. I think most of the ones that need to borrow things come at meal times just for that reason." Sam laughed.  
   
"You feed all the wayward hunters?"  
   
"Not all of them, you've never been here."  
   
"I had no clue what I was missing."  
   
"There's coffee in the pot; help yourself. I'll have the food on the table in a minute."  
   
Dean found the coffee mugs stacked by the coffee marker. He savored a sip of the scalding liquid and wasn't surprised to find it was really good.  
   
"You were expecting cheap and crappy coffee?" Sam sounded scandalized.  
   
"Uh no, I just wasn't expecting it to be this damn tasty."  
   
"Trust me, if Dad had picked the coffee out it would be the crap you were expecting. He’s not allowed to pick out coffee." Sam laughed.  
   
"Wow, I don't think any of us even look at the coffee labels, except the price."  
   
"Who else do you travel with?" Sam asked as he started putting huge plates of bacon, waffles, and eggs on the table.  
   
"Wow, this is impressive. My Dad and I have been on the road since I was four. A few years ago we met up with another hunter, Gordon Walker. You ever meet him; he’s a very intense dude." Dean was practically drooling at the food.  
   
"Wow, hunting when you were that little. That must have been an interesting way to grow up."  
   
"I think after a while the cheap motel rooms just became home. Dad wasn't one for cooking. He used to grill, but I doubt he ever really cooked in the kitchen. I remember weekend cookouts in the backyard when I was really little. I guess that’s why he just used to buy us mostly fast food and convenience store sandwiches. We also ate at diners when we found one and the time and funds matched up." Dean stopped and took a huge bite of the now cooling waffle. He couldn't remember having such a great breakfast in years. "I guess it's funny what becomes normal after a while. These waffles are every bit as good as my Mom's were."  
   
"Is she why y'all started hunting?" Sam softly asked as he got up to grab the coffee pot so he could top off both of their mugs.  
   
"Yeah, a demon got her. My dad had no clue they were even real so he just grabbed me and we bailed. I may be fuzzy on some of the things from my childhood, but I will never forget that night. If he gets drunk enough he’ll admit that he still feels like a coward for running off. He was sure no one would believe his crack pot story. After doing this for my whole damn life I agree. They would've charged him with her murder and setting the house on fire."

"I'm sorry. It must've been hard to lose her at such a young age."  
   
"Thanks. I should just be glad she lived until I was four. At least that’s what the shrinks on TV and the radio tell people."  
   
"They suck if you ask me. I never knew my mom. She popped up on my dad's doorstep right after she had me. She told him I was his and she didn't want to be a mother. She had plans for the rest of her life that didn’t include diapers."  
   
"I'm sorry."  
   
"Thanks, but the really crappy thing is all the well meaning people saying in that fucked up whispered tone,' _Sammy was one of the lucky ones. His mom knew she would most likely beat him, so she gave him to Bobby. More of those worthless parents should be like her._ '”  
   
"Talk about assholes. Man, I’m so sorry. No one should ever say shit like that, let alone to a kid." Dean wanted to slap everyone that'd ever said anything like that to Sam.  
   
"I’m lucky my Dad's always been there for me no matter what. When the rumors started going around, he sat me down and explained that not every mommy is ready to be a mommy. That she gave me to him, because it was what was best for me and that I shouldn't be mad at her. The older I got the more details I got out of him and his friends."  
   
"How old were you when you got that ‘not all mommies rock’ speech?"  
   
"I dunno maybe six.” Sam shrugged. “I came home from school crying because someone called me a bastard and it sounded really bad. I thought it was something contagious and I was going to die. I know I was a stupid little kid sometimes. He was mad, and sat me down and said I was in fact not a bastard. I was a Singer and that made me legitimate and anyone that says otherwise can come see him. He called my teacher and there was a lot of drama over it." Sam smiled at the memory of his dad's righteous anger. "I'm sure your dad was just as protective of you growing up. Hunters have a hard life and we all gotta stick together. Not to mention we have to protect each other from the supernatural and humans."  
   
"I guess we should. But mine wasn't like yours. My dad had more of a drill sergeant’s outlook on life. You know, up until yesterday I thought that was totally normal," Dean admitted and went back to shoveling waffles in his mouth to stop himself from chatting. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the morning playing true confessions of a teenage hunter. "Do you feel up to calling people today? I'm sure there are plenty of people who’ll want to be here for you." The words left a bad taste in Dean's mouth. He wanted Sam surrounded by people who cared about and loved him for the next few weeks. He knew that someone would most likely point out that he was an outsider and really wasn't welcome or needed at this time. He knew the longer Sam waited to kick him out the more it was going to hurt.  
   
"I should call Aunt Ellen. I know she and Jo will be down here as soon as she can manage to have someone cover the bar."  
   
"You have an aunt that works in a bar?"  
   
"She owns Harvelle's Roadhouse, you ever been there?"  
   
"No, I don't think we have."  
   
"I would've thought you'd been a regular, and Dad and I just missed you."  
   
"Oh, you think I look like someone that normally hangs out in bars?" Dean tried his best to keep a straight face.  
   
"It is a hunter's bar. It had been for ages. I can see you playing pool and swapping tales with other hunters." Sam grinned, showing off his dimples.  
   
"I got to admit that does sound a little like me."  
   
"I thought so."  
   
"So, your dad take you to hunter bars often?"  
   
"Aunt Ellen's place is different. The first time we went there was to drop off a box. They needed a curse box and Dad drove it out there. Ellen has a daughter Jo and she and I are about the same age. It was nice to meet someone my age that knows about all the crazy shit that's out there."  
   
"I thought she was your aunt?"  
   
"Honorary aunt, she and my Dad are, were, really good friends."  
   
"That sounds nice," Dean thought about his own dad and wondered, besides Gordon, how many he would consider a good friend. He knew he personally never had the desire to claim Gordon as family.  
   
"Yeah, it's a funny story. The summer I turned twelve, Jo and I decided we had to be brother and sister. There was some dumb ass giving her a hard time and I scared the crap out of him while I was there. We both knew I’d be going home at the end of my summer vacation. So we thought ‘hey our parents are single and they like each other so we should help them along and get them married.’"  
   
"That must've been a fun summer." Dean couldn't imagine doing anything like that.  
   
"Ellen finally caught on to what we were doing. She explained that family is a bond between people who love each other. That if Jo and I wanted to be family, we could do that without scheming to marry her and my dad off. She said I was welcome to claim her as an aunt and Jo as my cousin."  
   
"Sounds like a sweet memory."  
   
"Yeah, you should've seen dad's face when Jo called him Uncle Bobby. It was priceless. After the shock wore off, you could tell he was proud of the title."  
   
"I'm sure they will be rushing out here, after you call them," Dean tried not to sound as upset as he felt.  
   
"I should call Rufus as well."  
   
"Rufus? He would be about your dad's age? He lives up north somewhere?"  
   
"Yeah, you know Rufus? I know he can be a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a nice guy. He was always around when I was growing up. It was funny when I was really little he used to spell everything he thought was inappropriate for me to hear."  
   
"I think a lot of people do that. I’ve had people do that to me when I'm wearing my F.B.I. badge."  
   
"Yeah me too. The funny part was he kept doing it long after I could spell."  
   
Dean was glad to see Sam smile at the happy memories.  
   
"So, when did you meet Rufus?" Sam asked him.  
   
"Oh, I never met him. I've just heard of him. He and my dad met on a job a while back. I don't think they got along." Dean wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He didn't want Sam to think he was like his Dad. Now that he thought about it, Rufus most likely would've told Bobby about it.  
   
"Winchester... Oh then your dad must be John." Sam nodded at the thought. "I don’t know why I didn't figure that out sooner."  
   
"You've met him?"  
   
"No, I've never met him. I've only heard about him. My dad and Rufus both had very strong opinions about him," Sam told him.  
   
"Oh, what did they think of him?" Dean was curious. He'd never really heard anyone that wasn't in their social circle talk about his dad.  
   
"Can we forget I said anything?" Sam asked him.  
   
"Why? I was just wondering what they thought of him."  
   
"They didn't exactly see eye to eye. They complained about him and the other guy who I would assume was Gordon."  
   
"Oh, well, I guess my dad and Gordon have a different style than some of the other hunters out there."

"I think we all have our own way of doing things." 

"Sam that is very true." Dean agreed.

   
"How about we promise to not judge each other by anyone else’s life choices?" Sam actually stuck his hand out to shake and Dean tried not laugh as he shook it.  
   
"I'll clean up in here, and you can go make your calls," he offered, thinking Sam may want some privacy when he talked to his friends.  
   
"I guess I can't put it off much longer." Sammy looked like he was going to march off to his death as he grabbed the phone and shuffled his feet into the living room. Dean cringed at his own bad inner thoughts.  
   
"Hey Jo, I _really_ need to talk to your mom.” Sam waited while Jo put her on the phone. “Auntie, I… it's bad. I'm sorry I didn't call right away. I'm still not sure how it happened. One minute we were sitting in the kitchen. Then he got a call about a job. He didn't seem like he wanted to take it. It was a local thing, so we drove over there and poked around for a bit. After a while, we had to admit that we were wasting our time. We decided to make one last walk through the old cabin. For some reason it just went up in flames.” He paused while Ellen replied. “Something else rattled him. It was something bad, and the next thing I know he was doubled over and gasping for air. I thought it was the smoke. They said it was a heart attack."  
   
Dean felt guilty for eavesdropping. He really wasn't trying to. Sam's voice just carried into the kitchen.  
   
"No, I wasn't alone last night. There were a couple of other hunters that showed up while we were there. I don't know why they showed up either, but you know sometimes leads overlap. We’ve all crossed each other’s paths more than a few times over the years. Most of us have made new friends that way."  
   
Dean assumed that Ellen didn't trust their accidental meeting.  
   
"I know, Auntie. But Dean isn't his dad."  
   
 Dean could only assume by Sam's tone that she had less than favorable things to say about his dad.  
   
"Auntie, he may be an asshole. I never met him. He bailed before I could meet him, but I’ve gotta say Dean has been awesome. Promise you'll be nice when you meet him. He’s been a perfect gentleman."  
   
Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. So maybe Sam wasn't going to kick him out after he hung up.  
   
"Promise me you'll keep an open mind about him." Sam listened to her reply. "Thank you, love you too."  
   
Dean quickly retreated into the kitchen, not wanting to be caught listening to Sam's conversation.  
   
"One call down." Sam sighed and dropped his head onto the table.  
   
"You're doing great. I only wish I could be more help," Dean called out form the kitchen.  
   
"Now that you mention it, I do need a favor."  
   
"Name it. Anything I can do to help you out, just let me know."  
   
"You do the upkeep on your car?"  
   
"Yeah, I have since I was big enough to hold a wrench."  
   
"Can you work on other cars as well? I mean basic repairs and upkeep, nothing to serious."  
   
"Yeah sure. You have something that needs a tune up?" Dean was practically bouncing on his toes at the thought of exploring Bobby's workshop.  
   
"It's the second Wednesday of the month. I keep forgetting you're not from around here. The second Wednesday is Anna Mae day. It' s important for the people that need the help that we be there."  
   
"Anna Mae is that something I should know?" Dean asked.  
   
"Not exactly. It is one of the better kept secrets in town."  
   
"What do you need me to do?"  
   
"Damn it's already ten o'clock, walk with me out to the shop?"  
   
"Sure, can I grab my boots?" Dean dashed off to quickly slip into his socks and boots, before meeting Sam at the back door.  
   
"Short version is Dad holds these monthly specials no matter what. The ones that can afford to pay always do. Some throw extra in the till, and that covers the ones that have no money. You’ll also be paid in baked goods and other random things. Whatever they offer thank them and take it. We don't want to make anyone uncomfortable or feel indebted to us. Most of them are women, but there will be a handful of guys. No teasing them about not being able to do the job themselves. No trying to make them help and get grease under their nails."  
   
"So, I just fix what comes in and they just know what to pay?" Dean had never heard of anything so crazy in his life. He'd been dealing with salvage yards most of his life as a customer and he had never heard of anyone running a joint like this.  
   
"If you have any doubts ask when they last spoke with Anna Mae. Or they will most likely ask you about her, or they might ask for the Anna Mae special. If they know about her they are here for it. They either need the help, or want to help fund it. Not that Dad and I wouldn't keep it going as long as we could afford it."  
   
Sam motioned Dean into his dad's garage. "I would show you where everything is, but I am guessing you can find it all quicker then I would." Sam blushed. "Oh and if anyone really has a hard time with you, and don't be offended if they do. And if you need me for anything, just pop in the house."  
   
"I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I'll try my best to make everything run smoothly," Dean tried to reassure him.  
   
"Oh, and I hate to ask, but if they ask where your dad is what should I tell them?" Dean hated to bring up the subject, but he didn't want to guess about what Sam wanted people to know.  
   
"Crap! I hadn't thought about it."  
   
"I'll just tell them he's been detained." Dean shrugged his shoulders.  
   
"That'll do. Seriously, if you need me, just yell."  
   
Dean watched him walk back to the house. He walked around the garage and wished he'd had a chance to meet Bobby. The man took great care of his tools. Dean always thought you could tell a lot about a person by how they took care of their car and their tools. Dean would guess by the state of his tools that Bobby was a good man. Not to mention, he had yet to find any faults with Sam.  
   
It wasn't long before a middle aged woman in cream colored Cadillac pulled up.  
   
"You there, where’s Bobby? I _only_ deal with Bobby himself."  
   
"He's been called away. I'm Dean and I'm filling in for him today."  
   
"What are you filling in for him at?" She looked at him like she caught him stealing the last twenty out of her purse.  
   
"Oh, you want the code word. I am here to help because of Anna Mae." Dean nodded at her.  
   
"We will see about this," she snapped and turned on her pointed heels to storm up to the house.  
   
"Samuel, you need to be out here right now!" she yelled and rapped on the screen door once.  
   
Dean watched as Sam poked his head out. He couldn't make out what they were saying to each other. Whatever it was, Sam most have swayed her opinion of him.  
   
"You will check my oil and the tires. You will not touch anything else," she snapped the order in tone that would've made his dad proud.  
   
Dean worked quickly, hoping to see her leave, before she did something drastic like slap him with her perfectly manicured nails.  
   
"You'll do I guess. At least you know how follow simple instructions."  
   
Dean thought that must be high praise coming from someone like her.  
   
"Sam says I can trust you," she said. Dean had the feeling that as far as she was concerned the issue was still up for debate. She reluctantly handed him a one hundred dollar bill.  
   
"Thank you, Ma'am." Dean pocketed the money and watched as she left.  
   
He busied himself poking around the workspace. He almost believed he died on the last job and went right to heaven. He thought with his luck it was more likely he'd run into some kind of evil Genie that made you happier than you'd ever been and then ate your brains. He wondered how sad his life really was when wish granting zombies were a more logical choice than he found someone and someplace that made him happy.  
   
"Really, you can use anything in here. I doubt he'd mind," Sam called out as he walked over to Dean. “I brought you a pitcher of tea. I doubt the new people would be comfortable with you drinking out here. If you'd been helping out longer, then today I would've gladly grabbed you a beer.” Sam grinned, showing off his dimples.  
   
"Thanks, I could use something cold." Dean tried not to stare.  
   
"Truth is, I needed a break. I thought I would hide out here for a bit. As long as it's okay with you?"  
   
Dean swallowed every smart ass reply he had about it being his place anyways when he saw the look on Sam's face. "So how come you don't spend more time out here? I would've thought you spent your childhood out here."  
   
"I did spend a lot of time out here. I spent it in that corner." Sam nodded to an old armchair.  
   
 Dean had just assumed Bobby had used it for breaks and naps.  
   
"When I was little it was a game, if I was out here, I couldn't leave the chair. Dad explained that everything in here could hurt and later possibly kill me. He was worried; he claimed that kids were stupid about their self preservation and that I was no exception to the rule. It was easier to play _keep your butt in the chair_. I had a toy box over there that he always kept full of things to keep me occupied. As I got older we swapped the toys for books. I still used to do research out here with him. I’m going to miss being out here with him."  
   
Dean hated to hear Sam sound so sad. Before he could even begin to think of a way to make things better for him, Sam darted off towards the house.  
   
Dean didn't have a lot of time to think about anything as the people slowly, but steadily, trickled in. Sam had been right; they were all pretty basic jobs. He didn't have a chance to ask many questions. When he found the burger and another pitcher of iced tea he assumed Sam had been out at some point.  
   
Dean checked his watch and was surprised at how late it had gotten to be. He couldn't remember the last time he's put in a full day's work. A day that had nothing to do with a case or earning enough cash for a room or beer. It felt good to be needed.  
   
Sam came back, except this time he did have a bottle of beer. "There won't be anyone else today. Dad sees people between ten and four."  
   
Dean took the bottle and thanked Sam. "That’s weird hours. Not that it's any of my business. If your dad wanted to give away his time and services once a month that’s cool. I guess that's why he only did it for a limited time." Dean started to clean up what was left out from the last job.  
   
"If he could've done more, he would've."  
   
"Hey, I meant no disrespect. From what the few people who spoke to me today had to say he seemed like a great guy. I just meant I’ve dealt with a lot of salvage yards and I’ve never seen a freebie day."  
   
"You have to remember this all happened when I was really little. I only know what I've heard over the years. My dad, and well, most of the townsfolk won't really talk about it. So I looked up the case a few years ago. The details were sketchy. Anyway, Anna Mae was a sweet girl. Unfortunately, she married an asshole. The sad thing was not everyone saw him for the asshole he was. She always seemed happy so most people that knew he was a dick just assumed he was only sweet to her. No one knew how badly he was treating her behind closed doors. The few that did know he beat her made excuses for him."  
   
"That’s crap. No one should treat anyone like that."  
   
"One night she finally had enough and packed a bag and left him. She got right outside of town and her car died. He found her not long after. Some say he was watching her;others have less flattering things to say. It doesn't matter how he found her the end remains the same. He caught up with her and killed her."  
   
"Damn, I'm sorry."  
   
"Dad said that if her car was in better shape she would've made it. That was when he came up with the Anna Mae special. Word quickly spread through the right people and he never turned anyone away. You know, he used to pay for everything out of his own pocket, until someone needed his help that could afford it. She did get away and divorced her husband. She got a substantial settlement; she tried to give Dad a large lump sum for his help. He refused, but told her to come back once a month and she could pay what she wanted as she came to see him."  
   
"Really? He turned down the cash?"  
   
"Yeah, he turned down the lump sum, so she came to see him every month. After a while, she started bringing some of her more well off friends with her."  
   
"Your dad was pretty smart."  
   
"Yeah, he really was."  
   
"So, when is everyone getting here?" Dean asked, not wanting to put off the conversation about him leaving any longer. The more he got to know Sammy, the more he knew it was going to hurt when he did kick him to the curb.  
   
"Ellen and Jo should be here soon. I offered to pick them up from the airport, but she said she would just rent a car. That it would be easier on her if she had her own transportation."  
   
"That does make sense. Who else is coming?"  
   
"Rufus’ll be here in the morning. I bet he shows up in the middle of the night. Pastor Jim said he’d come, but I know how much he has to do at the church, so I asked him to pray for Dad. Is that dumb? Knowing what we know, is it stupid to believe in a decent afterlife?"  
   
"I don't think it's stupid at all. I hope you're right."  
   
"Thanks, Dean. I don't know what I would've done without you," Sam mumbled.  
   
Dean had put the last of the tools away, and walked over to Sam. He sat on the arm of the chair. "I'm sorry you had to go through any of this. I’m glad to know I helped."  
   
"Well ain't this cozy? You must be Dean."  
   
Dean snapped his head around and saw a woman about his dad’s age, standing in the doorway. He wasn't sure if she was friendly or just sizing him up. "That'd be me."  
   
"Why don't we all go in the house? I'll make a pot of coffee," Sam suggested.  
   
"I think Jo has that under control. I'm more interested in meeting your new _friend_." Her grin gave Dean a chill.  
   
"Sure, what did you want to know?"  
   
"Sam, why don't you go inside, we'll be along in a few minutes." Ellen's tone made it clear that it was not just a suggestion.  
   
They watched Sam head towards the house.  
   
"Okay, it's just us out here now so cut the bullshit. Sam is one of my most favorite people. I love him like he was my own. I've watched him grow up and I will _not_ allow you to fuck his life up. It will serve you well to remember how many hunters pass through my bar. They all adore that boy."  
   
"Whoa, lady, I don't know what you think is going on here, but the last thing I want to do is hurt him. I agree, he is a great guy. I just couldn't leave him alone yesterday. This morning, he asked me to help out here." Dean hated to think that she thought he was staying for some nefarious reason.  
   
"He trusted you with his Anna Mae people?" Ellen sounded shocked.  
   
"Why would I lie about something like that?"  
   
"You're a Winchester," Ellen said like it left a bad taste in her mouth.  
   
"Yeah, I'm a Winchester. What does that mean?"  
   
"It means I have had more than a few run-ins with your daddy. That man wouldn't know the truth if it bit him in his ass."  
   
"Look, lady, I know you and Sam are practically family and I'm trying to be respectful, but you're talking about my dad. What right so you have to call him a liar?"  
   
"You really have no idea who I am, do you?" Ellen asked him. She grabbed a bucket and moved it in front of his chair.  
   
"I'm not surprised you don't remember meeting me before today. You were just a tiny little thing. Your dad and my Bill went on a few hunts together. Not a lot of hunts mind you. Bill never liked the idea that John took you with him on a hunt. He tried to get him to leave you with me at the bar. John wouldn't hear of it. I'm not trying to tell you he was a bad parent. That is between you and him, just he and my husband never saw eye to eye when hunting."  
   
"Dad always complained about the civilian mindset that a lot of hunters couldn't shake. So believe me when I say I understand having a problem with my dad. I got to ask, what did he do to you? I can honestly say I've never heard of you or your bar."  
   
"The last hunt they went on was the one my Bill never came back from. I know things go wrong, I didn't want to think your dad would ever put him in danger. Hunters have to trust each other. It wasn't long after that a few newer ones came through and they all had a story or two about working with your dad. I am sure you wouldn't remember most of them. You were still a little boy at the time."  
   
"I take it you're trying to tell me that my dad got them all killed?"  
   
"No, Dean, I am not saying they're all are dead. They all basically had the same thing to say. They agreed that John Winchester may well be one of the best hunters that ever lived, but he was a cold blooded son of a bitch that took too many liberties with their lives and or freedom. A handful walked away with serious injuries and a few more got locked up when things went south. There were a couple that never walked away. Word spread though the community that John Winchester gets results, but you had to be prepared to pay the price."  
   
"Ellen, I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. He didn't have any doubts about what she had said. He knew that if she'd said the same things to him two days ago he would've stormed out. He would've split a bottle with his dad and Gordon and listened to the stories from their glory days and tales of civilians and wives that were clueless.  
   
"I know not everyone appreciated his no nonsense style. He swore that he hunted like he did with the same attitude he’d had in the marines. I can understand why some people may have issues with his style. Hell, to be honest with you I never knew there was another way. We never spent that much time with anyone except Gordon. It's no secret that he wants to be just like my dad. Before yesterday I was going to be just like my dad," Dean admitted.  
   
"Until you met Sam?"  
   
"Yeah, they hunted, him and Bobby, and Sam still had a normal life. Maybe not a _normal_ normal life, but it was nothing like mine. The more I learn the more messed up it is."  
   
"What's messed up, Dean?"  
   
"Him, me, our dads. Hell our whole fucking lives. Sam is a hunter and he still has fucking roots. Me, I got a great car, but that’s my whole goddamn legacy. I got the Winchester fucking Impala. I love that car, but it's not the same as a house. Sam has a future."  
   
"Yeah he does. I can still remember when his mom dropped him off. I was the first one Bobby called. He was a wreck, trying to figure out what to do with a baby.” Her mouth twitched briefly upwards in a smile at the memory. “That kid has more brains than most people I know. His grades are better than most of his friends. He does a lot around here as well. He keeps this place running. As far as hunting, I’ve seen him stand up to everything he's ever run across. While I would never question is his bravery, research is where he truly excels. I’ve seen that boy dig up lore that scholars would have trouble finding."  
   
"I get it; he is a great guy. It doesn't take a genius to realize he is out of my league."  
   
"That wasn't my point, Dean. He trusts you. You’ve been with him during the worst time in his life. That has to count for something."  
   
"Who am I fooling? Ellen, you know as well as I do that he’ll make something of himself. What can I do? I can hunt and fix cars. If I stay here and try to make something work with him, what’ll happen? He’ll never have better than this. He could go to college and do something spectacular."  
   
"So what, you're just going to run away?"  
   
"If I see him and he asks me to stay, I will. If I do that, how long until he wakes up one morning and realizes that I held him back? I think it's better for everyone if I just bail."  
   
"Do you really think that he’ll forget about you?"  
   
"We just met. It's stupid to think I mean something to him." Dean got up and left the garage.  
   
"Honestly, Dean, I wasn't trying to scare you off. I know Sam is seriously smitten with you,” Ellen said as she followed him.  
   
"I know, Ellen, but that doesn't make it any less true," Dean told her as he walked to where he parked his car the night before. He took one last look at the house, before he slipped behind the wheel. He knew he was doing the right thing. The last thing Sam needed was a whirlwind romance that would jeopardize his future. For once Dean was determined to do the right thing.  
   
He drove off and stopped at the first liquor store he saw. He decided that he deserved a bottle of the good stuff. He quickly bought his bottle and found out where the cheap motels were in the area. It didn’t take long for him to find the little sleazy no tell motel and check in for the night. Checking into one motel was like checking into another. He didn't even have to think about it at this point. The only thing that mattered was how far away the ice machine was when he was bruised and bloodied. Thankfully, tonight that didn't matter. The most important one was to make sure the names on his credit card and driver's license matched. Tonight, he was feeling reckless and used his own id and cash to pay for his room. He thought about grabbing his bag from the car, but decided that it wasn't worth the effort. He could hear his dad yelling about how if nothing else he should lay down the goddamn salt lines.  
   
Dean locked the door behind him and flopped down on the bed. There was something wrong with his life that lying on a grimy bed that smelled like a bad combo of cheap perfume, smoke, grease and unwashed bodies felt more like home to him than Sam's nice little house. He could've easily stayed in that house, but he was beginning to doubt he would ever truly fit in. He wished he had pictures of the house he'd lived in before his mom had died. He wondered if his room had been as cozy as Sam's had been.  
   
He needed to quit thinking about Sammy. He hoped that Ellen and her kid would stay as long as Sam needed them. Maybe they would take him back with them. He was glad that Sam had people around him that cared. He wished he could've been one of them. Hell, he wished he'd gotten Ellen's number. She made her feelings pretty clear when she got there. He just wanted to get the hell out of there, after their little chat. He wanted to believe she'd been a liar. After she spoke her mind, he was ready to believe her. She didn't sound like she was making any of it up. He picked his phone up and thought about calling his dad.  
   
What could he say? “Hey, Dad, did you really get a bunch of green hunters almost killed? Was there a reason you had it in for Bill Harvelle?” Could he have wanted Ellen? If that was the reason, then why didn't they spend more time at her bar? What was the name of her bar anyway? He wished again that he had asked her more questions. Maybe he was better off not knowing. He took another long swallow from the bottle and realized if he had a good way back into Sam's life he would be tempted to use it.  
   
He was pulled from his musing by the shrill ringing of his phone. "What?" he snapped as way of greeting.  
   
"Dean, why are you still there?"  
   
"Dad?" Dean asked, trying to figure out where his Dad thought he was supposed to be.  
   
"I told you that I expected you to be here. Gordon and I have a job lined up. It's a three man job. Until we can find someone else, you’re still the third man." His tone made it perfectly clear that he had lost his faith in Dean.  
   
"Dad, what do you want?" Dean asked him.  
   
"Excuse me? I don't know where this new attitude is coming from, but boy you better figure out how to shake it off."  
   
"Yeah, why? Seriously, Dad, what can you take from me? You not only planned my life for me, but you locked it up so I had no choice about anything. So no matter what I do or don't so, what will it really matter in the long run? If I miss the next hunt, I’m sure you and Gordon can find an extra guy." Dean hung up the phone and threw it against the wall. He smiled when it shattered.

   
The last thing he wanted to do was spend the night arguing with his dad. Dean knew he wanted him to be more like him. Hell, he knew that John would've been happier if Gordon had been his son. His life was so fucked up. The saddest part was, until the day before yesterday he was clueless about that simple fact. At some point the emotional upheaval and skipping dinner mixed with the whiskey must've caught up with him. The next thing he knew someone was knocking on the motel room door. He fumbled around, looking for a clock, and realized he had three hours until check out.  
   
"Fuck off!"Dean yelled and threw the now empty bottle at the door for good measure.  
   
"Open up, Winchester, I just need a word with you."  
   
Dean crawled out of bed when he realized that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep, until he dealt with whoever it was on the other side of the door.  
   
"Dean Winchester?"  
   
Dean squinted into the early morning light, trying to figure out why the sheriff was at his door.  
   
"I don't know why you're here, but I've been here all night." Dean couldn't think of anything he'd done that would draw the cops to his door. Nothing in the past twenty four hours, anyway.  
   
"Sheriff Mills, I'm sure we can figure this out easily enough," the sheriff almost sounded apologetic to Dean.  
   
Dean wasn't so sure. He had a bad feeling that he should've skipped his drunken pity party last night and had just left town.  
   
"Look, Sheriff, I'm sure whatever happened is just a big misunderstanding." He tried his best charming smile on her.  
   
"I'm almost positive of that, Mr. Winchester."  
   
"Can I at least grab my boots and a shirt, before we go back to the station?" he hopefully asked. Dean went back into the room to finish dressing as soon as she nodded. He briefly thought about running, but there was something about the women that made him think he might get a fair shake from her. He also knew that if things got hairy he could always find a way to escape.  
   
"I promise, we’ll get this worked out as quick as we can. Unfortunately, I need to impound your car." She stuck her hand out waiting for the keys.  
   
His car, that pretty much confirmed it for him. He had stupidly taunted his dad last night. He told him there was nothing he could take away from him. His dad decided to take the only two things that mattered, his freedom and his Baby.   
He followed her to her squad car, and wondered what his dad could've set in motion in the few hours since he hung up on him. Whatever John decided to do, Dean knew that he should be afraid. He got in the back and the sheriff drove off. She parked the car not long after that.  
   
"I was serious, Dean, I am sure things will work out," she told him when she opened his door.  
   
He followed her to an interrogation room. He'd been in enough of them over the years to know how this worked. She would try to put him at ease. Then pretend they had a bond and she was on his side. The entire time she would be cataloging everything he said to use against him. He took a deep breath and tried to get his head straight.  
   
"Dean, I think we can cut the crap, don't you?"  
   
"Yeah, I still don't know why I'm here."  
   
"I can see why you're confused. I'm sure you've dealt with your fair share of cops in your chosen profession. This is my town and I like to run things just a little bit different." She pulled a stack of manila folders out from a bag.  
   
"You brought me in here to give me the heave ho?"

"No, I brought you in here to have a discussion. I think we can have an honest conversation, don't you?"  
   
Dean swallowed every smart ass comment that was threatening to spill out. He had the feeling that Sheriff Mills wouldn't appreciate it. For reasons he didn't want to look at too closely just yet, he wanted to remain on her good side.  
   
"I know you want to make some charming remark and con me into just letting you waltz out of here, but I think it’ll be worth your time to hear me out."  
   
"Okay..." he drawled, skeptical of her motives.  
   
"I know you don't trust me. I doubt I’d trust me either if I were you. That’s why I’m about to show you these. As you’ll see if these ever got out, my department would look like a bunch of bumbling assholes. These files cover the surrounding area. Not all of them are technically my jurisdiction. I think you know better than anyone evil things don't pay attention to county lines. This case was a vengeful spirit. This one was a nest of vamps. This grizzly one was a raw wendigo. I hate those; they creep me out. The rest I'm sure you’ll be able to figure out." She slid the pile of folders over to of Dean.  
   
"You know about all of these things?" Dean was shocked. He'd never had a civilian believe him. To think that a cop did was mind boggling. He couldn’t believe the sheriff was tossing around names of monsters like she was asking him what kind of sandwich he wanted for lunch. He still wasn't convinced she wasn't mocking him. He opened random folders and realized that she could just as easily be setting him up to take the fall for all of her _weird cases_.  
   
"I'm sure I have an alibi for a good chunk of these."  
   
"Dean, I don't care if you do or not. I'm not trying to pin all my old cold cases on you. I am just trying to prove to you that I’m well aware of the creepy shit that goes bump in the night."  
   
"You keep saying that, but I fail to see what that has to do with me."  
   
"I’ve known the Singers for a long time. They’re good people. I admit I had you checked out when I heard about what happened. As far as I can tell, you’re stand up guy. If I had any doubt, the fact that Sam asked you to help at the yard yesterday clinched it for me. Sam has always been a bit overprotective of Anna Mae Day."  
   
"Okay, so I helped some people with their cars. I've always been good with a wrench. I could pull my own car apart and fix whatever ailed her, before I could even drive her." He hated the thought of losing her. "Sheriff, why am I _officially_ here?"  
   
"Technically, you're not here, I mean it this is off the record. Don't misunderstand me, your car is here. We found it parked at the twenty four hour mini mart by the motel. We towed it in and sadly the drive eluded us. That is what I’m going to tell the fake officer when he gets here later this morning."  
   
"How do you know he's fake?"  
   
"Mostly it's a gut thing. He was just a little too by the book. Plus he's going to drive all night to pick you up for credit card fraud, and grave desecration? The thing that sold it for me was his name, _Nestor Elliot_. Really he's F.B.I. and named Nes Elliot. That just screams hunter, don't you think? I'm betting he is your partner. You seriously pissed him off. That means you two are close. I didn't get the pissed off lover vibe from him. I'm guessing he's family?"  
   
"Sounds like my dad. Did he say when he'd be here?" Dean was in no rush to see him.  
   
"You'll be gone by the time he gets here."  
   
"About that, if you impound my car how am I supposed to be gone?"  
   
"About that, did you know there was an unofficial missing persons report out on you," Sherriff Mills asked.  
   
"No, who’d file one on me?" Dean was truly stumped by the very thought.  
   
Sheriff Mills opened the door and Dean's was shocked to see Sam walk in.  
   
"You’re such a dumb ass. Do you have any idea how I felt when you just bailed on me? I thought we were getting along. You were there for me when I needed someone the most, then you just left. I spent last night begging Ellen to find you, and wondering what I did wrong." Sam sat on the front of interrogation table and turned slightly so he could look Dean in the eyes.  
   
"Sammy, you didn't do anything wrong."  
   
"Then Ellen must've said something. I swear she treats me worse than Jo when it comes to dating. Oh, wait was that it? Did I hit on you when I was drinking? I’m sorry, if I offended you."  
   
"Whoa, Ellen was fine. I bet she can do a mighty fine Momma Bear routine when needed. Sammy, you have your life ahead of you. You can be anything. The last thing you need is someone like me bringing you down." Dean hated to admit that aloud. He knew he was right, the best thing he could do for Sam was to just walk away.  
   
"I notice you're not complaining about my drunken flirting." Sam grinned.  
   
"Yeah, okay I admit it you're hot. You're also sweet, charming, and live in a whole different world than I do," Dean explained.  
   
"That's bullshit. I don't want to argue about it. I hear you're about to lose your partner and car. I’m really sorry about that. I know you're close with your dad. That car of yours is a beauty too. I just need someone like you around. I need someone to help me with the shop. Someone who understands why I have a weird obsession with all of the creepy crawly shit that's lurking out there. So why don't you come back and help me out. We can run everything like a real partnership. We can move my dad's stuff out of his room and you can have it."  
   
Dean was surprised by Sam's offer.  
   
"Dean, can you tell me you have a better idea?"  
   
"No, I can't." Dean knew that he was never going to be able to walk out on Sam now. He had a hard enough time leaving last night, and that was before Sam had offered him everything he could ever want.  
   
"If I agree that would make us what, roommates? How would that work?" he asked Sam.  
   
"It will work however we want it to. Dean, I'm not saying run off and marry me. Maybe an occasional night out where we can get a decent steak.” Sam grinned. “I think there’s something there for us, and I think we owe it to ourselves to see what it really is."  
   
"I hate to break this up, and for the record I agree with Sam. You two’ll be the cutest couple. I thought I would tell you that your dad will be here soon. I don't want any trouble in my station."  
   
"I can't believe you were eavesdropping!" Sam sounded shocked.  
   
"Sheriff, I don't want any trouble either. You know what; you can give him my damn keys with my blessing."  
   
"Are you sure, Dean? I don't want you to regret this after a few months," Sam whispered.  
   
"I have no doubts about this decision. Well, there maybe one hitch in that plan."  
   
"Oh, are you worried about him coming out to the house?" Sam wondered.  
   
"Nope, I’m worried about how we are getting back there. I would rather not walk."  
   
"I drove so why would we have to walk?" Sam asked him.  
   
"Good point, so we can leave? Dean turned to Sheriff Mills.  
   
"Like I said before, you were never here." She winked as she held the door open for them to leave.

 

They both walked quickly to Sam's car. Dean was in no rush to deal with his dad's mood in public. He wanted to be back at the salvage yard, before he ever stepped foot in the police station. "Is everyone still at your place?" Dean wondered just how many pissed off people he would be dealing with when they arrived.  
   
"No, everyone left a few hours ago. Ellen offered to stay with me, but she and Jo have a life they needed to get back to."  
   
"Oh, I would've thought your friends would've stayed a few days with you." Dean felt like an ass, leaving Sam alone like he did.  
   
"Well, people have lives and cases pop up so off everyone went." Sam shrugged his shoulders and started the car.  
   
"I'm sorry."  
   
"That's okay; it wasn't your responsibility to watch over me."  
   
"You mentioned a case, are you going on a job soon?" Dean wondered if Sam had any jobs lined up from before Bobby's accident.

"No, Rufus had a job waiting for him. He wanted to stay longer, but you know how it is. Nothing is more important than the job."

"I don't think your dad would've said that."From everything Dean had learned about the man, he always seemed to find a way to put Sam first.  
   
"Family is family without it what do you have?" Sam asked him.  
   
Dean was about to answer him when he realized they were back at the house.  
   
"I'm sure you want food and a nap." Sam smiled and went to unlock the door.  
   
Dean went to reach for his bag and realized that it was in his car. He'd lost everything in the last few hours. His car, his weapons, his research books, his clothes, even his dad. He reminded himself that for all he lost he may have gained something better. He steadied his nerves and walked into Sam's house.  
   
"Oh, I was wondering if you were ever coming in. Before I forget here," Sam said as he handed him a key ring full of keys.  
   
"Thanks." Dean wondered why he would need so many keys.  
   
"Those were dad's that way you can open any lock here. His truck's keys are still on there. I just didn't have the heart to take them off."  
   
"Thanks, Sam." Dean reminded himself to put the truck ones someplace safe until Sam wanted them back.  
   
"You need a key."  
   
"I need a lot of things. I didn't realize until we got here that I own the clothes on my back and that's it."  
   
"I'm sorry about that. I bet you had everything in the car. Oh man _your car_. That's harsh. I have an idea, but you have to keep an open mind and maybe a bit of imagination." Sam grinned and pulled him towards the door.  
   
Dean had no clue what Sam was getting at, but he was happy to see him smiling and happy.  
   
"She's not _your_ Baby, but after she gets a little T.L.C. she could be awesome once more. See, Tony had a 1968 Charger, and a wife,  and a girlfriend. When the wife found out about the girlfriend she had it painted, and then defaced the old girl."  
   
Dean was shocked when he saw the car. It was hot pink and someone spray painted the words cheating asshole all over it in glittery lime green paint. If that wasn't bad enough, they took something heavy to it. He would bet a sledge hammer.  
   
"You poor, poor thing. How could someone do this to such a sweet girl?" Dean asked as he ran his hand along her roof.  
   
"You think she’ll do for a car? I'm sure we have most of the parts you'd need. What we don't, I’ll track down for you. Of course you have full use of Dad's tools and work spaces."  
   
"Sam, this is too much. You could restore her and make a nice chunk of change."  
   
"If I did, and let's be honest I won't, what are you going to drive?"  
   
"She is pretty awesome." Dean grinned.  
   
"As far as the rest of the stuff you need we can replace it all. Dad and I have an impressive armory if I do say so myself. You saw the research books that were floating around the living room. We have tons more scattered all over. I think until we get to the store you can just use what will fit from my closet. Oh, even better there are a bunch of boxes up in the attic, if you want to go through them, stuffed full of old jeans and classic rock shirts. They all weren't classic when they were bought."  
   
"That would be helpful. Hey, Sam, I was thinking about your set up in the house. It seems a shame that you have to keep people out due to the hunting stuff and extra phone lines. You just seem like a people person. Well, to be honest some of the people that were here yesterday had really little kids. A couple of them had to feed or change their babies out here. It would be better if we could work something out so they could go in the house if they wanted. What happens when it snows or it’s pouring out?" Dean knew he was onto something by the look on Sam's face.  
   
"How could we manage that? I’m all for it as I’d love to do more than we do now." Sam slid up on the hood of the Charger.  
   
Dean slid up next to him, "We could move the phone lines out of the kitchen. Set up a better office for the salvage yard in the house. We could mount the phones without the labels on them. They could have a small plate that you only saw when you were sitting behind the desk. Keep the personal and the main lines running to the kitchen. From now on, when someone calls looking for research we can have a code word like you do on Anna Mae Days."  
   
"What kind of code?"  
   
"How about ‘Rock Salt Special?’ As long as they have any form of it we know it’s someone that needs help."  
   
"Rock Salt Special. I like that. You have great ideas. I think you and I will do great things together, Dean. I'm glad you're staying."  
   
"I'm glad I'm staying," Dean agreed and bumped Sam's shoulder with his own. He sat next Sam thinking about how much his life had changed, and how lucky he was that it had. He wasn't sure what this new domesticated hunter’s life would bring him, but he was sure he was going to enjoy it.


End file.
